


Absence makes the heart grow fonder

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Finrod can't get enough Curufinwë, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Nipple Play, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the following prompt in the Silmarillion kink meme:</p><p>Finrod is looking for his cousin but finds Curufinwe senior instead. He doesn't really mind.</p><p>Please no Fëanor/Curufin, neither implied nor explicit.<br/>Infinite bonus points if you avoid any "evil" Fëanor characterisation and even more bonus points if you avoid also "innocent" Finrod. Hints of hatesex are cool but not necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absence makes the heart grow fonder

“Curvo isn't here.”

Findaráto almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the booming voice – his uncle's voice – behind him in the near-empty forge. Fëanáro had soundlessly emerged from the adjacent room – a smaller workshop where only a couple of people had the right to tread. Findaráto nodded to him stiffly. 

“Where is he?”

“Pityo and Telvo needed his help. He will be gone for a few days I'm afraid.”

Disappointment clouded Findaráto's face. He had hurried (nearly run, in fact) to his cousin's house straight from his philosophy class, hoping to coax him away from the forge and into more pleasurable activities, determined to make the most of the time they had while they were both in Tirion. It had already become something more than a game or a diversion to him, though he would have been hard pressed to define what exactly was there between his cousin and himself (Curufinwë would have smiled his wry smile at the mere suggestion that it was something dangerously similar to love).

“Is there anything I might do for you?”

“I do not think so,” Findaráto replied curtly, a little irritated by his uncle's condescending tone.

“That's too bad.” Fëanáro shrugged, and took off his sweat-soaked shirt, tossing it in a corner.

He was slightly taller and slightly heavier than Curufinwë, but their appearance was all in all the same, and they could have easily been mistaken for each-other. The chest Findaráto found himself staring at could have been the one he had licked and caressed to his heart's content just the previous day in his own bedroom. His cock stirred, and he cursed inwardly. He should have left right then, but his eyes avidly followed the movement of his uncle's right arm as he brushed his dark hair back from his face. 

Their gazes met again. The snickering glint in Fëanáro's eyes told him that he knew exactly why he had been looking for Curufinwë, and Findaráto felt like a fool for ever assuming that Curufinwë could have secrets for his father (or that Fëanáro would not have noticed anyway). 

“Or perhaps there is,” he corrected himself, raising his chin challengingly.

If Fëanáro was surprised, he didn't let it on. “Do you wish to go somewhere where we can...discuss the matter in private?”

Findaráto nodded resolutely. Fëanáro said something to one of the three elves still at work, then led his nephew from the forge out into the courtyard. The younger elf followed close behind, each step heavier with his growing excitement, flared even more by his uncle's scent (a combination of sweat and the sharp smells of the forge, a scent he had come to associate with the satisfaction of his deepest desires). He barely looked around when they entered the main house and passed into a room that was an odd mix of library, study and bedroom.

Fëanáro locked the door; Findaráto shivered at the sound.

“So, what can I do for you?” Fëanáro asked in a husky voice, sidling up to his nephew with the air of a cat who has just found a dainty morsel – or a helpless prey to play with.

Findaráto looked at him keenly for a few thundering heartbeats. “This,” he said at last, and leant in. His lips met Fëanáro's, in a kiss that went from an awkward clash of mouths to their tongues swirling against each other and Findaráto grabbing the back of his uncle's neck to draw him in even deeper. It was different from kissing Curufinwë, but in a subtle way – like a favourite dish with a new garnish.

Fëanáro's teeth lightly grazed the flat of Findaráto's tongue as they parted, the suggestion of pain sending a jolt straight to the younger elf's cock.

They undressed each other hastily (but Findaráto was sure Fëanáro deliberately ripped the collar of his tunic, sending the pearls attached to it rolling under furniture), and tumbled onto the narrow bed. Findaráto landed on his back, and Fëanáro spread his legs wide to kneel between them. Their erections brushed together as he bent down to kiss and nip Findaráto's neck, going lower until he reached the top of his shoulder, where he bit, hard.

Findaráto grimaced, but felt his arousal spike again. He snaked his right hand between their bodies and wrapped it around both their cocks. His other hand felt its way down Fëanáro's back to his ass. His lips curled in triumph when he dragged his nails over it and Fëanáro hissed, caught unprepared by the harsh caress.

The older elf retaliated by biting his other shoulder and pinching his nipples. Findaráto squirmed beneath him, increasing the friction between their cocks, and for a while they goaded each other fervently, each provoking the other – Fëanáro rolled the hardened nubs between his calloused fingers, whereas Findaráto's hand clawed his uncle's buttocks, and their cocks rubbed together almost painfully.

It was Fëanáro who took it further. He dug his nails into the nipples and the skin surrounding them, and tugged sharply, smirking as Findaráto yelped.

“You should pierce them,” he remarked banteringly, “though you look like you could come from this alone as it is.” He continued to pull and squeeze until both nipples were reddened, stopping only when he felt Findaráto begin to lose control. Then he straightened, and took a vial from a nearby cabinet.

“I always top,” blurted Findaráto, trying to convey some defiance, though flustered by the tingling sensation delightfully pulsating on his chest.

“And why is that?” 

“Curufinwë wants it so.”

“So you're exclusive?”

Findaráto held his uncle's amused gaze, but couldn't reply. He had bedded a fair number of elves, but he hadn't thought of anybody else ever since he had started sleeping with his cousin, or he wouldn't have been in bed with Curufinwë's father in the first place.

“Well,” Fëanáro opened the small bottle, “I'm not going to bottom for you, all the more so if you don't even know how it is to be on the receiving end.”

“Curufinwë never complained.”

“Do half your sentences begin with 'Curufinwë'?” 

Findaráto blushed, and turned his head to the side. 

“Come on, open up.”

The blond hesitated for a moment, suddenly nagged by all the doubts that had failed to make themselves conspicuous when he had followed his uncle (it certainly wasn't a good moment to think of his own family), but he willed them to hush, and drew up his knees.

Fëanáro poured the oil directly into his cleft, scooping it up with his fingers, and working one into the exposed hole. It was met by definite resistance, as expected, and Fëanáro worked patiently (more patiently than Findaráto would have given him credit for) to loosen him. Even so Findaráto's whole body tensed in acute discomfort when Fëanáro drove into him and buried himself to the hilt.

“Relax. Breathe. I won't move again until you're ready.”

Fëanáro bent to kiss his nephew's mouth and neck, and trailed a hand up to his nipples again. More than the stimulation, it was the pungent scent that once again filled Findaráto's nostrils as he forced himself to inhale deeply and regularly that gradually eased the tension in his body. Fëanáro spared no energy in fucking him then, shoving into him fast and deep, and Findaráto came embarrassingly quickly, the name “Curufinwë” spilling from his mouth as his seed shot all over his own chest.

“I could almost believe,” Fëanáro panted, and delivered a particularly vigorous thrust as soon as Findaráto's inner muscles unclenched, “you are actually calling to me.”

“In a way I am, aren't I?” Findaráto reached out with his hands to cup the beautiful, stern face, marveling once again at the resemblance.

The thin lips stretched into a smile (a real, warm, smile) for a moment, before Fëanáro pulled out completely, gripped the back of Findaráto's knees and folded him nearly in half. He thrust in again, roughly, pressing down on and into the younger elf with his full weight. Findaráto's body shuddered with the intensity of the strokes, still blissfully sensitive in the afterglow of orgasm, and he bit his lower lip to muffle his moans. Fëanáro didn't feel the need to do the same, his pants and grunts becoming louder and louder as his thrusts became quicker. He pulled out just as his body tightened beyond endurance, and he only had to pump his cock a couple of times to finish. 

Findaráto stared up at him – Fëanáro's eyes were half-lidded, his mouth slightly open, every muscle tense as the ecstasy of release washed through him wave after wave. With the light pouring in from the window at his left and slanting on him he looked absolutely magnificent. 

The younger elf propped himself up on his elbows, and motioned for him to come closer as soon as his uncle's shoulders slumped and his eyes focused on him again.

Fëanáro raised one eyebrow. “I didn't imagine you to be so daring.”

The tone was taunting, but Findaráto caught the flicker of admiration underlying it. “I never back down from what I want.” 

Fëanáro obligingly crawled over his body to straddle his face. He nudged his lips with his still twitching cock – Findaráto kissed the tip and swirled his tongue over the slit – then brought his right hand to his mouth and stuck the thumb in.

Findaráto sucked on it, and on every other finger, hungrily, licking away and savouring every drop of semen that hat stuck to them, until only the faint sweaty saltiness of the skin remained.

“Satisfied?”

“Not entirely.” He wasn't sure if it was because Curufinwë had deserted him, or if it was his half-uncle's spiny allure that had captivated him, but he had already decided that he wanted more. “May I come again tomorrow?”

Fëanáro's piercing eyes bore into his, and Findaráto almost started squirming again under their scrutiny. He could only wonder at what his uncle was thinking (perhaps, he mused hazily, it was the very fact that it was frustratingly hard to decipher both father and son that he liked, along with the risk it entailed).

“I will be here, but come before the mixing,” Fëanáro shrugged at last, and stood up. “I'm going to take a bath now. You can rest a while here if you wish, you won't be disturbed.” He retrieved his discarded trousers and underwear, and left the room. 

Findaráto sighed noisily after the door closed, but chose to banish all rational thoughts for a while more. He had one more assignation to look forward to, and he had no intention of ruining it.


End file.
